


Wardrobe Malfunction

by quiteanerdling



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, The Hinterlands is a terrible place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6696694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiteanerdling/pseuds/quiteanerdling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hinterlands is hard on Dorian's wardrobe, and The Iron Bull is hard FOR Dorian. (Oh god, I'm going to hell and IT WAS WORTH IT.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wardrobe Malfunction

**Author's Note:**

> Basically fandom has me all pissed off, and my solution seems to be to repost my old smut. There's no nutritional value here, just porn.

The sound of tearing cloth is hardly unusual in a battle, but the sudden rush of air over Dorian’s backside is nearly as alarming as the presence of the war trained mabari that has come up behind them while they’re fighting a great bear in the Hinterlands. Dorian spins about, staff high and blasts the mongrel back with a fireball.

“A little help for the mage please!” He calls, seeing two other mabari running to join their pack mate. He hears the odd whistle of one of Sera’s arrows go past, just a little too close to his face for comfort, taking one of the dogs down with a yip. A great crash behind him is followed by a shout of triumph from Bull and the Inquisitor is suddenly _there_ , right beside the mabari in that incredibly alarming way she has. She ends the final animal with one quick slash across the throat.

“Yes!” Sera cries excitedly. “Face down bits up!” 

Dorian rolls his eyes as Bull and Sera exchange a complicated and enthusiastic handshake they have recently made up.

“Speaking of bits…” Dust says from behind him, low voice full of amusement. “I think the main casualty in this fight was your outfit Dorian.”

He turns his head quickly, trying to get a good look at his own ass without spinning in circles. To his horror the lovely royale sea silk of his over robe has been torn away, along with an embarrassingly large section of not only his leggings, but his smalls as well. There is a shallow red scratch across the brown skin of his left ass cheek - apparently the fabric has been sacrificed for the sake of quite literally saving his ass. 

“ _Vishante kaffas!_ This is completely ridiculous. Why on earth do we even _come_ to this Maker forsaken place?”

By now Sera and Bull are watching him with interest, and Dust is biting her full lower lip to keep from laughing.

“On the plus side,” she says, voice shaky with suppressed laughter. “You _do_ have a great ass.”

By the time the Inquisitor and Sera have stopped laughing, the location of their kill is marked for their scouts to come skin and loot, Dorian is fairly vibrating with anger and embarrassment. He has pulled his over robe off of his chest completely to let it drape over his lower half, leaving him shivering in the chill Ferelden air. It also looks ridiculous which does not improve his mood.

Not even the fact that he does, in fact, have a great ass is enough to make up for the indignity of having it on display without his permission. Dust keeps Sera with her ahead of him and Bull to keep the other elf from teasing him until he sets her on fire. If he hears one more joke about arrows he will not be responsible for his actions.

Bull on the other hand, is oddly silent, simply walking slightly behind him without comment, as if shielding him from view, though (thankfully) there’s no one around to see him in all his dishevelment. They’re perhaps a quarter hour from camp, in the shadow of Calenhad’s Foothold, when Bull reaches out and grabs his arm, holding him in place. 

“Hey Boss, you two go on ahead, we’ll catch up.” Dorian looks up, startled and slightly annoyed, but doesn’t object out loud. Why on earth Bull wants to delay his return to camp and self respect is beyond him, but he will at least see what the great oaf wants.

Dust narrows her eyes, looking from Bull to Dorian and then aiming a particularly impressive glare at Bull.

“Be careful.” She instructs. “We’ve cleared out most of this area out, but if you get killed because you want to fuck Dorian against a tree I will walk straight into the Fade and strangle your spirit, am I clear?”

Sera makes gagging noises, Dorian looks up at Bull with a combination of dawning horror and arousal, and Bull just grins at Dust and nods. The Inquisitor mutters something in Antivan that Dorian probably doesn’t want translated, and then grabs Sera by the elbow and drags her down toward the lake camp.

“You cannot possibly be serious!” He exclaims when the two women are out of sight and earshot.

Bull looks down at him and Dorian finally notices the signs of post battle lust, apparently mixed with his normal unhealthy obsession with destroying Dorian’s clothing. The pupil of Bull’s eye is blown wider than the shadows warrant, and the way he’s looking at him makes Dorian shiver with more than cold.

“I’m always serious about fucking you kadan.” He says. Before Dorian can do more than blink in shock and arousal, Bull grabs his staff out of his hand and uses one arm to sling Dorian carefully over the shoulder _not_ decorated with a giant axe head. The mage gives a strangled gasp at being turned upside down, and then a yelp when Bull firmly slaps his ass, giving it a rough squeeze at the end.

“I am going to set you on fire as soon as I’m on the ground.”

“That’s fine kadan, I’ll just fuck you over a wall.” 

Dorian whimpers. He is a weak man, and Bull’s growling promise has his cock stirring despite all the blood currently rushing to his head from his awkward position. Finally they stop and he sees The Bull lean his staff against one of the half crumbled stone walls before depositing Dorian over it on his stomach, which makes him squawk in indignation. Indignation is quickly replaced by a desperate cry as Bull rips the remains of his over robe off, leaving him off balance and exposed to the air. He moans as one wide hand grips his shoulder, the other sliding down the back of his tight leather undershirt, dipping through the hole in his leggings to stroke over his cleft. Dorian _keens_.

There is another ripping sound behind him, accompanied by a wordless growl, and Dorian lets his head fall forward as he feels first cool air, and then the hot press of Bull’s fingertips over his perineum then down to stroke his balls. Part of his brain is protesting that they’ve obviously lost their minds and need to cease immediately, but it is quickly being overwhelmed by the part of his brain that wants to be fucked hard over a wall while his cock presses against the snug front of his leggings, being driven mad by the Bull’s powerful thrusts.

Bull’s hand leaves his shoulder, sliding along his flank until both of them are gripped tight at Dorian’s hips. He shivers with a combination of lust and cold, before Bull leans down over him, his heavy, metal studded belt pressed against Dorian’s back, hard-on pressed against his ass, and sharp teeth closing carefully on the shell of Dorian’s ear before he begins to growl words into it.

“I am going to eat out that gorgeous ass of yours. I’m going to fuck you with my tongue until you’re begging me to fuck you, and then I’m going to take you right here in the open, and I want you to scream so loud they can hear you in camp.”

Dorian lets out a loud moan as the words sink in, slapping a hand over his mouth. He might let Bull fuck him, but there is no way he’s going to risk making that much noise. Bull makes short work of his attempt at discretion, simply grabbing both of Dorian’s wrists and pulling them behind his back, holding them in place just above his ass with one hand. It’s not a terribly comfortable position, yet it does nothing to ease his desperate arousal - quite the opposite, because having Bull tie him up or hold him in place is one of his very favorite things, and damn him if the qunari doesn’t know it. 

“Dammit Bull!” He grinds out, but quickly gives up with a sigh, letting his head fall forward to stretch the muscles of his back. 

“That’s is little one, just give me what I want and I’ll take care of you.” Dorian gives a helpless noise he doesn’t even have a name for, and then he feels something, probably a piece of his poor, abused robe tying his wrists firmly but comfortably in place so the Bull can have full use of his hands. Dorian feels the other man kneel behind him, hot breath ghosting over his ass cheeks as he parts them wide, squeezing and pressing over the small cut on the left one in a way that spikes straight to his cock. 

Bull’s tongue slides wet and flat up his cleft, making him cry out as it passes over his hole. Bull teases him for several more strokes before he wiggles the tip of his tongue past the tight ring of muscle. Dorian can’t help thrusting forward at the wonderful intrusion, trying to build friction against his cock which is still trapped in his leggings, to no avail. Bull’s grip on him tightens until he is held in place, unable to find any relief as that long, flexible tongue fucks into him. Whimpers and moans fall from Dorian’s lips like an avalanche, none of them consulting his brain on the way out.

“Bull _please_!” He begs, not even knowing what for exactly, and is shocked when Bull stops, pulling back from him, leaving him wet, open and exposed, large hands falling away from his hips. He makes a noise of distress and shivers. 

“Shhh kadan, I’m here, I got you. I just need the oil. I promised I’d fuck you when you started begging.” A hand pats him gently on the ass, and those words in that order shouldn’t sound so sweet, but they do and he relaxes as best he can.

There is a shuffling behind him and then a large, blunt finger, nail trimmed short, is pressed past the wet, clenching rim of his ass hole and makes a slow slide into him, first to one knuckle, and then the next, gliding over his prostate on it’s way inside. His moan is loud in his ears, but all such concerns are completely lost in the haze of pleasure that Bull’s talented fingers create. His voice grows louder and Bull takes that as invitation, sliding a second finger in and scissoring inside to open him up. His thumb presses against Dorian from the outside over his perineum, pinching at him and making him shout.

By the time the third finger joins the others, sliding in all the way to their base, Dorian is a writhing, pleading, glorious mess. He is nothing but the hot points of contact inside him, the press of silk over his cock, and the heat of Bull’s body against his thighs. 

Bull pulls his fingers out and Dorian gives a strangled cry.

“No, no, don’t _stop_!” He orders, impressed that he can actually made the words go together in the right order. Bull chuckles and then groans behind him as he stands and presses the unmistakable length of his hot cock against the fluttering entrance of Dorian’s hole. Words disappear entirely as the broad head presses past the rim, and then slowly inside of him inch by inch. When Bull is pressed flush against him, coarse hair rubbing against Dorian’s balls, the qunari gives a long, low, growling moan that makes Dorian’s prick jump in reaction.

Bull pulls back out slowly, and the angle is wonderful, sliding over Dorian’s prostate on the way back, before Bull snaps his hips forward against to slam into him. Dorian’s chest scrapes over the stone of the wall and he gives a cry of pain. Bull, attuned to his every expression of pleasure, recognizes the difference and holds himself still, reaching down to release the knot that holds Dorian’s wrists in place. Before the mage can recover enough to try and lift himself from the wall, Bull grabs him and lifts, maneuvering him into place. His knees, still protected by the leather and metal of his boot tops, rest on the low wall, and his back is pressed against the heat of Bull’s chest.

Dorian’s head falls back against Bull’s shoulder, the new angle making him forget all about the brief pain. Bull is murmuring endearments in his ear, massaging his upper arms before he guide’s Dorian’s hands up to grip his horns.

“Hold on kadan. I want you screaming for me, and then you can come.” Bull slings one muscled arm around Dorian’s waist and presses a hand to his chest to keep him upright, the other brushing lightly over the mage’s fabric covered cock as he begins to move inside the smaller man again. Bull’s thrust are ruthless, his pace fast and strong, pulling Dorian up slightly as he pulls out, only to slam him back down again. Bull rips a bit more fabric from Dorian’s leggings, letting his dick come free finally. Thick grey fingers wrap around Dorian’s prick, the remnants of oil mixing with the precum that is liberally smeared up his length. Bull holds him lightly, barely providing any friction as his thrusts grow even more powerful, and Dorian’s cries grow louder without any forethought on his part.

“Fuck yeah baby, that’s it, so good, I love hearing you. Come for me Dorian, let yourself go.” Bull’s teeth sink into the exposed skin of Dorian’s shoulder and it is definitely a scream that rips from his throat as he comes, semen shooting hot across Bull’s hand and the stones below him, head thrown back in desperate submission, lost to the wave of pleasure. 

Bull presses deep into him, holding him tight against the expanse of his chest as Dorian’s body clenches around his length. Bull does not scream, but the triumphant shout he lets out as his mouth leaves the smooth skin of Dorian’s shoulder is not much quieter.

They stay locked together as Bull slowly grows soft and his seed spills out from Dorian’s ass. If Dorian were not completely wrung out it would be arousing, but his body and mind have nothing left to give.

“Shit that was good kadan. They might have heard you all the way in Redcliffe.” Bull sounds entirely too pleased with himself, but Dorian can’t help but chuckle, too drunk on his own pleasure to be at all worried about propriety.

“I hate you, amatus.” He replies, meaning the exact opposite.

“I know kadan, I know.”

***

When they arrive back in camp Dorian darts right past the grinning scouts and into the tent he shares with Bull. He nearly trips over the new addition to their tent - a thick, soft, bearskin rug spread across the floor. Outside the tent he can hear the Inquisitor laughing.


End file.
